Bad days as neighbors with Sherlock Holmes

The butler took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"Shipyard?" he asked, "My lord, are you sure it's the shipyard?"

After sorting out the completed documents on the table, the Earl nodded solemnly.

"Must be," he said. "He's been emphasizing that to me so many times."

The butler frowned.

"My lord, can you repeat the scene?" he asked, "I'm not questioning you, I'm just..."

Just wanted to see what it was that led you to create such a shaky idea...

Not knowing what to think of, the earl nodded quite clearly.

"Needless to say, I understand," he smiled subtly, "Going to the theater, I really like it too."

The butler opened his mouth, but finally remained silent.

Forget it, this kind of thing is hard to explain.

The Count cleared his throat and began his performance.

"First of all, I was attending a banquet that day," he said, "You were the one who... was in a hurry, and then I was led to a small room above the ballroom, and there was a person standing in the middle."

"Have you seen his appearance clearly?" the butler asked.

The count frowned.

"Of course I see clearly," he said unhappily, "a useless little white face who looks to be in his twenties, with attractive eyes."

The butler automatically translated the earl's words in his mind.

Oh, that's young and good looking.

After refilling the earl with a cup of tea, the earl started talking again.

"This man was holding a glass of sherry and asked me if I wanted a drink," the count said rather indignantly. "Isn't this nonsense, no one wants to drink it."

"And you?" the butler asked.

The earl's thoughts turned around.This is simply a great time to sneak away from work!

"Let me demonstrate the situation," he stood up, taking the opportunity to close the pen cap and put it back in place.

Holding the teacup, the count leaned against the carved railing and choked his throat.

"Your Excellency, you are here," he said in imitation of the man, "would you like a glass of sherry?"

Then he took two steps back, his expression changed, and he frowned.

"...if that is your request," the count replied gravely.

The butler looked at the count rather helplessly.

"We won't ask you anything," the count choked again, "you can drink as you like."

Then he took two steps back and put on a cold attitude, "Then I won't drink."

"Of course, anything is fine," he continued with a sharp voice. "Let me introduce myself. I am your daughter's future husband."

"Then I thought," the earl changed his expression, "he claimed to be Elena's future husband, huh, he looks restless, that's all? Just in case my heir's mind is taken away Now, who will do these tedious tasks?"

"Then you..." The butler hesitated to speak.

"I said, 'Oh, the marriage contract is always made by the elders, and you got the consent of her mother in heaven? So you have gone to the arms of Christ, or your mother and father? Disrespect disrespect'," Earl continued.

After walking back to his seat and taking a sip of his tea, the Earl continued, "He stopped the topic for a while and changed the subject to talk about my daughter's position as the heir, saying that she 'has the talent to inherit the profession' in her blood." Is he joking? That being said, although I hate work, our grandparents have been royal architects! What generation is he, the poor generation?"

The butler froze for a moment, as if thinking of something.

"Then I gave him a cold look." The count didn't notice, and continued to drink from the teacup. "According to Yvette, he replied, 'Are you teaching me how to do things?' and he didn't say a word."

"Then a different person told me about 'the great ride of the wind and waves', I think, what they said," the earl frowned, thinking.

"Manipulate this ship of the future of the empire, and conceive the blueprint for the future in the great storm," the earl was excited, and thumped the table. "Control the world of dreams, and use planning as a conception rather than a means of implementation to do some practical things."

"That's the sentence! Look, what kind of ship is it? I just want to lure my Elena to do ship design for her, and then let her work hard to get their family business! It's just a ship design. On the tall side," he said indignantly, "then our architectural design can also be said to be a bridge between man and nature, conceiving the coordinated development of the human environment and the natural environment, and relying on new materials to look forward to a new world in the future!"

The butler coughed.

"It's fine when you think about it," he said tactfully, "My lord, what then?"

"Then I said no, they can't do anything to me," the earl took another sip of his tea moistly, "Yvette taught me that when you meet someone who is unreasonable, you should 'speak the world' .Then I perfunctory them a few words and came back."

The butler quietly clenched his palms.

"How perfunctory?" He asked a little nervously.

The earl thought for a while, and put on his classic expressionless face.

"No," he said with a cold face, "my daughter, don't engage in such a messy, confusing job that consumes her beauty and requires hard work every day."

"Don't say that two jobs can work together, I don't agree," the earl continued to repeat, "it's impossible for one person to do this kind of work. Don't ask why, I'd rather she marry than let her do your job .”

The housekeeper was silent for a while.

"So, that's why you urged Miss to get married when you came back?"

Hearing this question, the Earl rubbed his hands in embarrassment.

"Ah... this... that..." He stammered a few words, and when he thought of something, he regained his confidence, "I'm doing it for her own good! What a wonderful thing it is not to have to work!"

"...Is it a wonderful thing for you?" The butler pointed out the center sharply.

The count pretended to cough twice, and picked up the document pretending not to hear.

"What's the next thing?" He said in a tone of voice, "Building materials and construction direction? Is it not good to use reinforced concrete?"

On the other side, Elena, who was missed by the count, was not so lucky.

Gently putting the great Miss Heir back on the bed, holding the box in her hand, the thief Evelyn almost danced.

What he was holding in his hand was no ordinary diary, nor was it jewelry.

That is his future!

Think about it, that heir must have done some shameful things in his childhood.

And it is said that someone accompanied her, leading her to do so.

Holding the handle of the heir, the future is almost at your fingertips!

Fantasizing about the luxurious life he dreamed of, the days when he scolded Fang Qiu, those who used to lie on the ground and be young are nothing anymore.

He slid down slowly, almost as if stepping on cotton.This is not an ordinary table, it is simply his road to the future!

A foot trembled, and he almost fell.

He stabilized his mind, stuffed things into his pockets, pulled his clothes like a baby, and rummaged down again.

He also gave some money, which was rare, and took the last night's public carriage.

After trotting all the way home, he washed his hands almost cautiously.

Then lit a candle, estimated the distance, and ensured that the ignition would not burn the book.

Then, like opening a box full of precious jewels, the lid was reverently lifted.

At that time, I wanted to leave quickly, put the book in the box and closed it, and didn't pay much attention to these things in a hurry.

So he didn't realize that this book was thicker than what he saw on Elena's desk.

He touched the cover, confirmed the name, rubbed his hands together, and flipped back.

The first page is full of sketches.

He turned again.

Or sketch.

Evelyn flipped through most of the book before seeing a single line.

"Daddy gave me a new book," declared the infant heir, "and this has been my diary ever since. Recycling."

He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he did not take the wrong notebook.

The news from my friends is reliable.

Then look down.

"Work," wrote the heir, "why I love work! It's all because of the overlap between my hobbies and my work!"

The next few lines are all about the meaning and beauty of work, and the mood that various jobs bring to her.

"I hate...the housework is too difficult," wrote the diary, "but drawing is for me."

Then back to the original starting point.

Basically, most of the sketches occupy the main screen, and there are a few sentences written in the lower right corner where they were drawn and what they were drawn for.

"I think it's better to return the diary to its original purpose." There is a clump of grass drawn on the diary here, "just draw what you have seen and heard in the past few days. People in the past couldn't write, so they used to draw. I I know how to write, but I draw, this is called retro!"

Evelyn almost sighed.

"How can a man be so stupid?" he said to his companion. "Think work is everything! I'm not like that, am I, Marlowe?"

"Yes," the people around him agreed.

So Evelyn went back satisfied and continued to look through the diary.

But after turning a few pages, it didn't feel right again.

He got a little creepy.

At this point, Marlowe should be stealing outside, how could he be sitting next to him?

He turned his head stiffly and looked at the person beside him.

"Oh, I figured it out," the person behind said softly, "I was stabbed by the old man last time, so I should go back this time. Alright, give me what you're holding."

He stretched out his hand as a matter of course, took the box, and moved the position of the candle, so now it was Riley who was sitting at the table facing the candle.

He leaned against the table, trying to use the support of the table legs to relieve the pressure on the wound from sitting for a long time.

Evelyn stood aside, looking at the man in front of him with anger and daring to speak.

He didn't dare to do it - he and the other two brothers have always been known for their dexterity, and they don't have an advantage in fighting alone.

What's more, for the three brothers who are quite notorious outside, they can occupy a place in a chaotic and dirty place like the Eastern District, where underground forces are intertwined. In addition to the survival of the three of them, they also rely on their nature of knowing the times and willing to bow their heads.

Some time ago, this guy who called himself Riley came to the door and called Jack to do something.

Jack had always been discreet, and he would not reveal what job he had taken, and they didn't care.

In the end, the money was brought back, and Jack went to the joint after finishing the work, but the person was gone.

A guess can tell that it is murder, but even if it is true, they must not seek revenge.

And no one is willing to seek revenge—just kidding, the law of the jungle has been engraved deep in everyone's heart. When Jack was alive, it was called collusion. When everyone is dead, what is there to do?

Scatter the ashes of his enemies in hell for him?

In this chaotic place, no one would do such a thing.

Seeing that it was almost dawn, Evelyn coughed and reminded Riley in a low voice, "My lord, it's almost time for me to give the little, um, miss the heir. If she wakes up, find out—"

"Oh, do you think it's possible?" Riley flipped through the notebook in his hand nonchalantly, "The idiots at Scotland Yard, even the previous chase was 'the one' who helped the heir lady catch the little trash who committed the crime. Got it... um, you mean the young lady came after her?"

He waved the notebook in his hand carelessly, "It seems that our Miss Heir has already immersed himself in architecture... A pure idealist, a nobleman who never lacks money, isn't he?"

Evelyn's lips moved, but she nodded.

"Ah..." Riley sighed as if talking to himself, "Tell me, how can a person who grew up in a honeypot and uses so many kinds of spices for cooking inherit such a huge and magnificent career?" What? She can't do it, maybe even kill a duck. She needs a husband. And who else but me will take pity on you, a thin rue with a light smell and a pale color?"

While talking, he used his pale and slender fingertips to touch the rue engraved on the cover of the diary, stroking gently, his expression seemed to be a little obsessed, and the originally handsome, decent, deep and moving face was actually revealed by the lighting. It's kind of crazy.

Evelyn couldn't help being silent when she saw the adult's obsessed look.He originally wanted to use this method, but unfortunately the reality is too cruel.

"Miss Heir may not be able to find out, but that nosy Holmes..." He couldn't help reminding, "If he didn't have someone behind him, he should have-"

Riley tapped on the table.

"You know what to say and what not to say?" He asked in a gentle voice.

Evelyn swallowed.

"D-of course," he couldn't help but say, "but my brother Halle..."

"I sent for rescue," Riley blew on the cover of the book, put it back in the box, and lifted the case, "then you'll see him later. Shut your mouth, huh? "

He showed a gentle and affectionate smile, "You have worked hard today."

Standing up together, the back of the waist met a cold and hard object.

"Fake orders from 'the one', Riley," said the man behind him in a low voice, "put things down, and go back for punishment."

Riley smiled easily, not paying any attention to the icy cold wooden cang on his waist, just like he didn't care at all about Evelyn who shrank into a corner.

"Well, it's you, Arnold," he said, "but am I one of the husbands chosen by 'the' Miss Heir? Or do you want a share?"

The "Miss Heir" that spewed out of his mouth was gentle and tender, like a whisper between lovers.

But to Arnold's ears, it sounded like a poisonous snake spitting out red letters.

"I don't care about the heir or not," Arnold said coldly, "I just carry out the orders of 'that'."

He walked a few steps against Riley, but then he remembered something, and looked at Evelyn who was hiding beside him.

After the matter was settled, he pinned the other wooden warehouse to his waist.

"Stupid or not," he dragged his younger brother's arm and cursed in a low voice, "Miss heir, it's clearly a bait, you still have to dip some. Are you sick?"

Riley moved the wooden warehouse away from his waist a little roughly, "That's why you stopped me, Arnold?"

He looked directly into his brother's eyes, "I can, that's what that person said."

"Are you going to get mad at me, Riley?" Arnold demanded. "With your brother?"

"Be loyal, being a good subordinate is enough, Riley," he stated, "don't think about taking shortcuts, 'that' would not ask such a thing from his subordinates."

"So you want to be a dog for him, a dog wagging its tail, no matter who it is, after 'that' gives the order, you will wag your tail to show people a joke, don't you?" Riley said angrily, "I won't! You are shameless, I want shame. I would rather die than be a dog!"

He gritted his teeth and said, "I'm not you, I can't be, and I'm not. The heir is the only way for me to climb up."

"Ha, are you telling me this now?" Arnold almost laughed angrily.

"Is that why you went to see the earl?" he asked, "Last time you said that you were her fiancé upstairs at the ball, and then you were chased for three streets by the old man left behind by that woman, and your waist was injured." A few days ago, I wanted to organize a hero to save the beauty, but I made a mistake and found another guy. The three of them had children, and I couldn't figure out how you could make a mistake. After a few times of tossing, not only let That nosy Sherlock Holmes noticed me, and almost gave away the plan of 'the one'. As if you still have face?"

"So, the follow-up mess is—" Riley asked hesitantly.

"Who else but me?" Arnold said angrily, "If you play this trick again, I will do you with my own hands. It is better than you dying at someone else's hands and humiliating our Quake name."

Although Quick's surname was probably already completely broken when they got stuck in it, Riley didn't care about it.

He frowned, with a trace of doubt on his face.

"But," said Riley, "'the one' made me do it. In that case, his intentions for Miss Heir..."

"If you heard that a cat in your family had a cub with a wild cat, how would you feel?" Arnold sneered, "It's too late to think it's dirty, let alone just a joke, 'that' probably didn't Putting in true feelings. But I just want to take advantage of this gust of wind to shuffle the cards again."

"Did you hear that?" He tugged on his brother's collar again, "Stop meddling."

Riley nodded thoughtfully.

The sky was pale, and the two brothers walked in front and followed behind.

There was a gray fog on the street, and Riley kicked away the stones blocking the road in boredom.

After two knots, Riley suddenly realized something wasn't quite right.

"No," he snapped back to his senses, and said to his brother, "I feel that this is not so much a target, but more like...a trial."

"Think about it," said his brother Arnold sternly. "Whatever it is, it's none of your business after that, understand?"